


A Single Fake Rose

by Agent_24



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Past Relationship(s), Talon Jesse McCree, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-06-13 07:19:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15359190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agent_24/pseuds/Agent_24
Summary: Gabriel used to love surprises.





	A Single Fake Rose

**Author's Note:**

> For akandriel on twitter <3

_January, 2078 - Present Day_

Jesse corners him in an alley and he knows. Gabriel doesn't know how, but he knows, and he yanks off Gabriel's mask and kisses him like a starving man. The plates that line Gabriel's spine press into his back, brick digs into the leather, and Jesse bites his lip so hard that Gabriel wonders if it'll bleed.

Jesse's clothes stink of alcohol and cigars and Gabriel wonders if its the holidays that have driven him into the arms of his vices, wonders if the whiskey makes it easy not to drown in everything else. There's something familiar about this scene in a way Gabriel doesn't like, between the snowfall and the quiet streets and the hitch in Jesse’s breath that means he's struggling not to cry, and part of him thinks it'd be simpler if he just fell to dust and slipped away again.

He can feel his own dog tags underneath Jesse's shirt, and Jesse's breath fogs between their mouths, and Gabriel thinks he's lucky to have made it this long without a kiss from this man.

Maybe Jesse counts himself lucky enough to have made it this long, too.

* * *

_November, 2064_

The mission goes off without a hitch until it doesn't, and suddenly Gabriel is down three men and running for his life. McCree is the only agent left, and fear puts something wild and untamed in his movements. Gabriel wants to tell him to trust him to find a way out of this, only Gabriel doesn’t see a way out. In fact, Gabriel sees a lot of dead-end alleyways and, as they round the final corner, a long open street for them to get gunned down on.

And then Jesse grabs the back of his hoodie and yanks.

He doesn’t have time to ask what Jesse’s doing. Jesse pulls his hood over his head and pushes him against the wall and if Gabriel was already breathless from running then he has no idea how more air manages to leave him. His tactical gear presses into his shoulders and the fabric of his hoodie catches on brick, and Jesse’s got Gabriel’s hood in his fists and he’s kissing him.

Gabriel freezes. He doesn’t have time to properly process this. He can hear heavy boots thudding against the street not far off and his ears are still ringing with gunshots, and Jesse is kissing him, and Jesse’s the only agent still alive. Is Jesse thinking that they might not make it out of this, that this is his last chance to confess something Gabriel won’t have an opportunity to respond to?

Soldiers in uniform trot past the alleyway. A few peek into their alley and Jesse angles Gabriel’s face away from the street, hides his features in the shadow, moans into his mouth and presses their hips flush. Gabriel can’t breathe. The soldiers that peeked look away quickly and carry on a little faster. Gabriel realizes that Jesse’s kissing him because public displays of affection make people uncomfortable and that might just save their lives, not because -

The soldiers pass them by. Jesse finally lets Gabriel have his air back. Both of them are breathing hard, their hearts pounding in their chests, and Gabriel’s brain isn’t sure what emotion he wants to attribute those reactions to. He feels scrambled. Jesse is still hanging on to his hoodie and has dropped his forehead to Gabriel’s chestplate, and his shoulders are shaking enough to hint that he wants to cry but won’t.

“Let’s get out of here,” Gabriel says, because he doesn’t have anything else. Jesse pushes off of him and doesn’t meet his eyes, and they sneak back to the transport with more important things on their minds than a fake kiss. Gabriel doesn’t get to bed until hours past midnight and even then can’t manage sleep.

* * *

_January, 2078 - Present Day_

“I thought you were dead,” Jesse says quietly, words smushed against Gabriel’s mouth, and his voice might be softer than Gabriel’s ever heard it. “I thought you were dead, you goddamn son of a bitch.”

Gabriel’s hands hang near Jesse’s hips. He’s afraid to let them settle. If they settle then he’s never going to let go and he knows it, and if anything might put a kink in his plans then it sure as fuck would be Jesse goddamn McCree.

“Didn’t think you’d care,” he says.

Jesse slams his fist into the wall near Gabriel’s head. Gabriel doesn’t flinch; the brick crumbles under Jesse’s metal hand. “Fuck you,” Jesse hisses, a half-sob of a thing. “Fuck you, I mourned you.”

“You _left_ me.” 

The words come out angrier than intended. Gabriel _intended_ to be factual about it. It’s not a fair thing to say and he meant for it to sting but damned if it didn’t make him sound all vulnerable and wounded, and damned if it didn’t make it sound like that was the worst thing Jesse could’ve done to him.

“Fuck you,” Jesse spits, venomous. “I ain’t sorry for it, either. You should’ve come with me. Now look at you.”

“I’m stable,” Gabriel argues, because it’s all he’s got.

“Stable,” Jesse sneers. “Stable so long as you keep on bein’ a terrorist. Stable so long as O’Deorain lets you be.”

It’s a little true. But Gabe has plans too, plans that are more important than whatever freak shit O’Deorain wants to stick him with. Plans that Jesse McCree would put a big ol’ monkey wrench in.

“You don’t get to question my reasons,” Gabriel says after a moment. “You lost that privilege when you took off.”

“The hell I don’t,” Jesse snaps, and this time his voice breaks. “The hell I don’t, Gabe, when I know you like I do. You ain’t...you ain’t one of them. Don’t sit here’n tell me you’re like them.”

None of this is fair. It’s not fair that Jesse’s worming his way back into Gabriel’s life like he wasn’t ever gone in the first place. It’s not fair for Jesse to kiss him like he’s never needed something so bad, it’s not fair for Jesse to make him want to jump ship and run off into the country. It’s not fair that they were ever apart at all. None of this is fair.

Gabriel’s communicator beeps. He tilts his head away from Jesse’s to answer, sees Jesse realize his impending loss and hears the soft squeak of leather as Jesse’s hands tighten on his coat.

_“What’s keeping you?”_ Ogundimu asks, and Gabriel only answers, “Small snag. I’m on my way,” before he hangs up.

“I’m comin’ with you,” Jesse says, and Gabriel’s heart thuds in his chest.

“You don’t belong in Talon,” Gabriel says, too quick.

“I belong with you,” Jesse insists, and that’s not fucking fair, goddammit.

Gabriel hears himself say, “I don’t want you with me.”

“Don’t you lie to me,” Jesse snarls, his face twisting, fresh tears springing to his eyes. “You owe me that, if nothin’ else. Don’t you fuckin’ lie to me, Gabriel.”

Gabriel takes his hands away from Jesse’s hips. He wants a goodbye kiss. He doesn’t ask for it. “You don’t belong in Talon,” he repeats.

Jesse’s jaw tightens. The leather of Gabriel’s coat squeaks under his hands. “Maybe I wasn’t real clear when I left,” he says through gritted teeth, “But you don’t get to make decisions for me anymore.”

_“Reyes,”_ Ogundimu says in Gabriel’s ear. 

Gabriel’s mask forms over his face. Another kiss would be an invitation for Jesse to chase him, so he tells himself to be content with the kisses he’d already gotten. Jesse cries, “Gabriel-!” and Gabriel slips through his fingers, and Jesse isn’t fast enough to beat shadowstep.

* * *

_February, 2066_

Jesse really doesn’t give a fuck about holidays.

This, he’s come to realize, is a tragedy, because Gabriel loves holidays, and Jesse loves Gabriel, and Valentine’s Day is rapidly approaching. Jesse has spent a grand total of 27 Valentine’s Days gagging at mushy couples who don’t know how to get a room and rolling his eyes at folks who spend $50 on 12 pieces of chocolate. And now he’s got a lover and is making a valiant attempt at resisting the urge to buy flowers.

It is unfortunately the first Valentine’s Day since they became...a _thing_ , which, if Jesse knows anything about couples, is supposed to be pretty exciting. Except Jesse doesn’t give a shit about Valentine’s Day and would be plenty happy to let it pass by like any other Tuesday. The fact that it’s the first is unfortunate because it means Jesse doesn’t know what Gabriel expects, or even if he expects anything at all. 

“A dozen roses and a date night,” Ana’d told him. “Something simple. No need to overthink it, Jesse.” 

Jesse McCree would follow Ana Amari to hell and back, but he wants to dig his heels in on this one. There isn’t one thing about the word ‘simple’ that suits Gabriel Reyes, not where a holiday is concerned.    
  
But Valentine’s is in a week, which means a fancy date is out because Jesse doesn’t give a fuck about holidays and didn’t think to make a reservation months in advance. Jesse only knows the damn day’s in a week because Torbjörn was talking about how he was taking Ingrid to some fancy place Jesse forgot the name of ten seconds after he said it.

So, roses.

_Two_ dozen roses because it’s Gabriel and if anybody deserves more than what’s standard it’s him, even though Jesse feels shitty about it because he’s not in a suit when he knocks on Gabriel’s door to deliver them.

“Oh,” Gabriel says when he sees, and Jesse _thinks_ he’s blushing but can’t really be sure.

“I ain’t got a date planned out or nothin’,” Jesse admits, and rubs the back of his neck like it’ll make his skin stop burning. “I mean. I shoulda thought ahead -”

“I love them,” Gabriel interrupts fondly, and cradles the roses in his arms. There’s a little card sticking out of them, and Jesse feels heat rush to his face as Gabriel plucks it from its holder. “‘Love you till the last petal falls,’” Gabriel reads out loud, and Jesse wants to snatch it back and rip it up because this whole thing is stupid, this entire day is stupid.

“I know it’s cheesy -” he starts.

Gabriel tucks his nose into the petals like that’s going to hide the smile that reaches his eyes and asks playfully, “So there’s a fake in here?”

There is a fake in there. “There’s a fake in there,” Jesse affirms, embarrassed about it. 

“Cute,” Gabriel murmurs. He looks up, and Jesse hates that he suddenly knows what ‘Cupid’s arrow’ feels like, hates how he’s such a sucker for those brown eyes. Gabriel says, “Do you want to go out for burgers?”

He does want to go out for burgers. It’s Valentine’s Day and Jesse wants some shitty food from a shitty diner, and Gabriel’s standing in the doorway of his room with his arms full of roses, asking if he wants to go out for burgers.

“I might really be in love with you,” Jesse blurts with a stinging kind of sincerity, and Gabriel laughs behind the roses.

* * *

_February, 2078 - Present Day_

“You know,” Sombra says curiously, “When Doomfist asked me to track him down, I wasn’t expecting a real, genuine cowboy.” 

Gabriel thinks that if she says one more goddamn word he might actually lose his shit. Every inch of his body has tensed up so bad that he wonders if he’s still breathing. Ogundimu’s always going over his head and Gabriel’s always let it slide, but this is low, this is below the belt, this is a goddamn _monkey wrench_ if Gabriel’s ever seen one.

That suit is tailored to hug every little curve of Jesse’s body and Gabriel hates it. The mask is tacky and Jesse probably wore it just to make him mad enough to snatch it off. The blue scarf covers up his pretty face and his cleanly trimmed beard and Gabriel distantly smells cologne instead of alcohol and he hates it.

Two decades ago, Gabriel trained some punk kid to get into places he didn’t belong, sometimes undercover and sometimes unseen. And now here the man is, with his silver tongue and his sly eyes and those ass-hugging slacks, throwing those lessons back in Gabriel’s face. 

Fuck’s sake.

“Aren’t you going to say hi?” Sombra says with a little lilt to her voice, and she knows. Gabriel doesn’t know how and probably doesn’t want to know, but she knows. Talon’s newest sharpshooter is pretending to listen to Ogundimu talk while he lets his gaze flick from Gabriel to Ogundimu and back again. He winks once, cheeky and flirtatious, and _no_ , Gabriel is not going to say hi.

He doesn’t say hi for a week, and if he had his way it’d be longer. A week goes by and Gabriel returns to his room after lunch, and finds a tiny vase at his door with a single fake rose in it and nothing else.

Goddamn, that’s not fucking fair.


End file.
